


Shawl

by Queen Kordeilia (QueenKordeilia)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, mentions of stillbirth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:55:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25297255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenKordeilia/pseuds/Queen%20Kordeilia
Summary: I know. I suck at titles.
Kudos: 2





	Shawl

**Author's Note:**

> I know. I suck at titles.

Gone. Her beautiful girl gone forever, never to breathe again, smile again, talk again. She clutched the silk shawl the servants had brought her, the only personal effect they'd found atop the tower, the only proof that her girl had been up there. She hadn't even worn shoes.

It smelt of the sea. Cruel, she thought. Cruel that it should've been left behind by her girl yet still smelt of the currents that'd washed her away for good. But, of course. Her girl had wrapped that shawl around herself every day for weeks while mourning from atop that cursed tower or the shoreline beneath it. She should've seen it then, really, what was now so obvious in hindsight, but she hadn't. Maybe she hadn't wanted to.

She heard her husband outside the door before he came in, lingering outside as if he wasn't sure he wanted to face her and her tears. Well, someone had to cry. Her heart wasn't made of stone as his was.

"Listen," he began, closing the door behind him. "I'm holding this memorial for your sake and your sake only, but after today, I never want to hear her name again. Not from you, not from anyone in this castle. Do you understand?"

"You can't mean that." She sat up in her bed when he didn't respond, blinking her tears away. "She was your daughter. Our only girl."

"Yes, she _was_ , before she opened her legs for—before she birthed that abomination."

"Gods, must you call her that? The girl is dead, just like her mother."

"Yes, I must. She was born dead for a reason, Alysanne. Or would you rather have had me become a kinslayer? As for her mother, she g—"

"Don't," she warned. "Don't you dare. You'll regret it. You know you will."

He let out a deep breath, then nodded. "Very well, but her memory still dies with her. I will not hear her name again. His fame and the honour of this House prevent me from forbidding his, but none of his nephews will be named for him. Aric has already promised me."

"Has he now? He isn't even married yet."

"It's time he was, now that he has no heir. What do you think of Edric Fowler's daughter?"

"I don't think anything of her. _My_ daughter is dead. How can you be so senseless?"

He frowned, turning towards the door. "The service will start soon. Ready yourself and come down."

A glance outside the window told her this wasn't true, but she didn't stop him from leaving. She'd already begged him to turn to her that first night, to mourn their girl with her as they had their boy, but he'd turned away instead, perhaps held back by guilt. She'd found it difficult not to blame him after that, and they'd only drifted apart since. Sometimes, she wondered if he blamed her, too.

She lay back down, holding the shawl to her chest, inhaling its scent. With her eyes closed, she could almost pretend that Ashara had only stepped out for a walk and would be back any minute.


End file.
